Blurring Reality
by silent-tears-133
Summary: [POSTRENT] He was looking at me so intently I’m sure he could see every emotion going through me at that moment. I was faltering. My façade was faltering under my best friend’s gaze. Why did he have the power to make me crumble? MR Slash


Title: Blurring Reality  
A/N: My first RENT and my first slash fic. R/R PLEASE!

_"Please, please, don't do this. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Don't hit me, please," I pleaded to the man in shadow before he raised his fist as if to punch me._

A door slamming quickly woke me from my nightmare. Roger was home, and the slamming of the door meant he was pissed. Through the thin walls I could practically feel Roger's anger emanating into my bedroom. 'Probably another fight with Mimi,' I thought, my nightmare quickly forgotten, 'Wonder who she's screwing this time.'

I leaned over my mattress; the poor excuse for a bed, and felt around for my glasses on the ground. After pushing them up to their normal spot on my nose I slid out of the covers and walked out of my room. There were no lights on, not that I was surprised by this, but I was surprised to find Roger laying face down on the couch with his shoulders shaking, obviously crying. Roger and I had both shared our fair share of tears with each other over the years, but I'd never seen Roger cry over Mimi; _well except for that one time._

"Rog, you alright?" I asked, knowing full well my roommate was far from all right.

"Just…just leave me alone Mark," came his muffled reply. I cautiously walked over to the couch and sat down on the floor cross-legged, facing Roger.

"Rog, c'mon, just tell me what's up. Something happen with Mimi?"

"She's…she's leaving me Mark," he answered as he began to sit up. "She's moving in with her new boyfriend." With the help of the moonlight streaming into the loft I could see Roger's face; his eyes were puffy and red.

"Oh c'mon Rog, you know her and Mike won't last long."

"She's not with Mike anymore, it's some new guy. And this time she's left me for good. She said he's…he's good to her, and he's got money. He gets her smack. All she did was fucking yell at me Mark, she said I've been nothing but a nag to her." He was looking at me straight in the eyes when he said this. It was…scary almost, intimidating; Roger the tough rocker was sharing all his emotions with me, Mark, the guy who hides behind his camera. This was the one thing that made Roger and I so different. Although Roger had a hard exterior, he always let his emotions show. I'd had a camera since I was 13, I had perfected the art of hiding my feelings, I could blur reality so no one could see what I was feeling. People used to be able to read me through my eyes, but not anymore. I was in control, I was the one with the lens cap, I could hide my emotions or cover them up so no one could see them. I was the one who chose what you could focus on, and I controlled what was blurry. "I didn't nag her Mark, I didn't, I...I just couldn't stand the idea of losing her again. All I wanted to do was help her, like how you helped me. How'd you do it Marky? How could you stand me fighting with you all the time? Threatening, beating you like that? How'd you put up with it? I couldn't handle it!"

"I dunno Roger, your…your like my brother, I couldn't let you mess up your life like that. I'd do whatever it took to help you Rog, it wasn't really all that horrible. Plus, if you weren't around, who would I have to torture with my films, and who would tell my mom off when she called 19 times a day?" Roger and I both chuckled, it was true, I needed him. I needed him more than I was willing to admit.

"Yea Mark, I guess your right. You do need me!" answered Roger, his mood much changed from moments before. I smiled, and then playfully punched him in the shoulder before standing up.

"Want some tea?"

"No, that stuff tastes like shit in a cup. Plus it's like," Roger grabbed my left wrist and twisted it so he could see my watch, "it's 2:30 in the morning."

"Oh yeah," came my reply.

"Marky you all right?"

"Me? Of course I'm fine. You're the one with the girl problems," I answered with a smirk.

Roger's only answer was a yawn as he stretched out onto the couch once again. I walked into my bedroom and retrieved my blanket. I walked out and laid the blanket over Roger, his eyes now closed. I turned around and started walking back to my room before Roger's voice held me back.

"Marky, tuck me in?" spoke the Rock star, in a voice resembling that of a 5 year old girl.

I turned around and pulled the blanket over Roger and pushed it under him in a few spots before turning to go to my room once again.

"You forgot my feet!" whined Roger. I replied by flipping him the bird. "No thanks," he answered, "I don't do nerds." I turned around flabbergasted at his remark.

"I can't believe you just…I didn't mean…how…"

"Mark! Calm down! Don't get your scarf in a knot. I was joking! Geez…maybe all that tea is getting to your head!"

"But I am NOT a nerd!" I whined back. "Oh whatever…g'night Rog."

I walked back into my room, laid my glasses on the floor once again and slipped under my sheets. I shivered, it was cold without my blanket, but soon enough sleep defeated the cold and I slept.

"_Happy Birthday honey," cooed my mom as she placed a kiss on my forehead. "I'm glad the whole family could go out to dinner tonight, just make sure you don't spend too much time tonight playing with your gifts, it's already late enough."_

"_Don't worry mom, I'll go to bed in a bit, I'm just going to try to figure out how to get the camera you guys bought me to work."_

"_Oh all right Marky, I'll see you in the morning." It was then that I was left alone in the living room, sitting on the couch reading the instruction booklet to my birthday present. I then heard heavy footsteps come down the steps. The only person in my house who could make a sound that heavy on the stairs was my dad. At this realization my heart started beating faster. I bent my head down, silently praying the footsteps to disappear. They didn't. My dad walked into the room. He stood in front of where I was sitting._

"_Let me ask you a question Mark. Did you feel manly making fun of me at dinner tonight? Because let me tell you something you insolent faggot, I am the man of the house, and you are nothing but a piece of trash," shouted my father._

"Dad c'mon, I was only joking. I wont do it again." At this comment my dad's face grew red with anger. He punched me in the jaw. "Dad! Stop it!" My father only raised his fist again, ready to punch me in the jaw for the second time

I instantly woke with a start. My body was wet with sweat and I could feel myself shaking. I felt bile rise in my throat and I dashed to the bathroom. I emptied my stomach into the toilet while sitting on my knees. As soon as there was nothing left I wiped my mouth with some toilet paper and flushed the toilet.

Someone came into the small bathroom and flicked on the light. I suddenly felt dizzy and leaned up against the wall. Roger walked in, worry and concern written all over his face.

"Mark, you alright? Are you sick?" he asked.

"I'm not sick- I throw up for fun."

"Well, your still a sarcastic ass, I guess that means your not dying. But seriously…is everything alright?"

"Yea…just another night-" I mentally slapped myself. I can't tell Roger! He's got more than enough to worry about.

"Look Mark. I know that your having nightmares, I'm not a complete idiot. I just wish you'd tell me what's going on," he pleaded.

"I am NOT having nightmares Roger!" I shouted, "Look Rog," I continued in a much softer tone, "I'm fine! I just ate something funny."

"Whatever you say Mark," answered Roger, easing up a bit. After a few minutes Roger continued, "Hey Mark? I love you to death, but you reek like puke. Could you take a shower before I pass out?"

I mumbled "ass" before motioning for him to get out and shutting the door. I looked at my watch; it said it was 7:30. 'This is the first time Rog and I are up before 10' I thought smiling.

I took off all my dirty clothes and put them in a pile before stepping into the shower. Benny must've turned off our hot water heater again. I sighed to myself. All these nightmares were getting worse and worse each day. Most of the time I would only have little flashes of what really happened in the nightmares, but the one I had this morning was especially bad. It was about the first time he beat me. I was only 13 when it all started. What made this nightmare so bad though? They only got this bad once a year…. then realization hit me. Today was my birthday. I never celebrated my birthday anymore, mostly because no one save Collins remembered when it was. Why celebrate a day that would haunt me the rest of my life?

I finished washing and stepped out of the shower. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist. I looked into the mirror that hung above the sink. I still looked pale, and my eyes were sunken in somewhat. Apparently these nightmares were getting the best of me. I leaned closer and touched the pale, almost nonvisible scar on my right cheek I had from my 13th birthday's fight.

When I left the bathroom Roger was sitting on the couch with his guitar. He looked up when I walked out. When he saw me he took a big gulp and his face paled. Roger and I had seen each other halfway naked, if not fully naked before, what was going on?

"M…Mark? What's going on?" he stammered.

"Roger what on Earth are you talking about? I'm just going to get some clothes."

"Mark, look at yourself. Your so thin, and pale. You can see your ribs!"

"I've always been this skinny Roger! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? I'm FINE."

"Mark! Your obviously not fine if you can't sleep because of these nightmares! If your fine then why can I see your ribs Mark? Why is your face so pale?" shouted Roger. I shivered. "I'm sorry Mark, I don't mean to yell. But please…please just tell me what's going on Marky. I'll help you, I swear I will. We never keep stuff from each other, why can't you talk to me?" beseeched Roger.

"YOU CANT HELP ME ROGER!" I shouted. All of a sudden I started to sob. I was shaking again and I fell to my knees on the floor. I didn't care that I was crying in front of Roger anymore. I couldn't stop it. I was pathetic, sitting on the floor sobbing, wrapped in a towel shivering. Roger walked over to the couch and picked up the blanket I lent him the night before, he came over to me and wrapped it around my feeble form. He then picked me up like a baby and carried me into my room and laid me down on my mattress. He went over to my drawers and picked out a shirt, socks, pants and boxers for me to wear and put them on my mattress.

"Mark, just get dressed and then come out okay? I'll make us some breakfast." He left and shut my door. My crying had stopped when Roger picked me up. I felt so…safe…. as if neither my father nor anyone else could hurt me ever again. I almost decided against getting dressed since I didn't feel like facing Roger right now, but just thinking of me being in his arms again changed my mind.

A few minutes later Roger knocked on my door before opening it. I was now sitting on my mattress and he came and sat next to me, our shoulders touching. Once again, a sense of security flooded through me at Roger's close proximity. Why was I feeling so strange around him all of a sudden?

Roger opened his mouth to speak when we heard the telephone ring. It rang three times, until the answering machine picked up and I could hear the voice of my mother. "Mark, its your mother. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Your father asked me to wish you a good one too…" As if a time bomb had gone off inside me I ran over to the answering machine, picked it up and threw it at the wall. Roger ran after me and didn't say anything he just stood there, behind me. I started to collapse again but this time Roger caught me and dragged me over to the couch. He laid me down and sat in front of the couch, holding my hands. This time I couldn't stop crying so easily.

There was a knock at the door and someone was singing. Collins is the only one out of our family who knocks before entering, as well as the only one who will sing and be happy at this time in the morning. Roger yelled for Collins to come back later, so of course Collins walked in. He was holding two balloons.

He walked in and shouted "Happy Birthday Mark! I was going through a bunch of stuff in my room and I found an old calendar of mine. I was just flipping around and I had written down today was your birthday! Why didn't you remind us-" Collins abruptly stopped talking when he saw Roger and I.

"Mark? Roger? What's wrong?" asked a worried Collins.

I silently pleaded for Roger not to say anything. Collins already knew that I was beaten. I didn't tell him everything, just that my father had beaten me once.

"I'm not really sure Collins," came Roger's soft reply. Collins let go of the balloons and let them float up to the ceiling. Collins came over and stood next to Roger, who still held onto my hands. He released one hand and brought it towards my face. I flinched. He realized this too and his face was now filled with more worry and concern. Collins looked at me in the eyes as if suddenly realizing what this was all about.

"Mark. Please, just tell him. If you don't I have to, he needs to know Mark!" reasoned Collins.

I didn't answer. I just laid there, my breathing ragged and shallow. I couldn't tell Roger. I just couldn't, he couldn't worry about me too. Why should I burden him with my past?

"MARK! Tell him God damnt Mark! Don't you see what your doing!" shouted Collins.

Roger stood up, obviously annoyed that Collins was yelling at me. I shivered when his hands left mind. "Collins, Mark and I need some time alone and I think it's best if you leave." I was shocked. Roger never really defended me against anyone in our family, especially Collins. At that moment I looked at Roger as my hero. Collins stood in disbelief for a few moments before leaving the loft. Roger sat back down and held my hands once more. He didn't say anything but his eyes were silently pleading with me.

He was looking at me so intently I'm sure he could see every emotion going through me at that moment. I was faltering. My façade was faltering under my best friend's gaze. Why did he have the power to make me crumble?

He leaned over and kissed my forehead and gave my hands a gentle squeeze.

"Mark, if you can't tell me what it is, at least tell me why you don't trust me with it. Please, I love you Marky."

"I can't Rog. Do you think I want to keep this all bottled up inside me? Roger, I love you too, I can't burden you with this." When I told Roger I loved him, I felt a little something tug at my heart. I had told Roger I loved him times before, it was brotherly love, what was so different about this time?

"Mark. Nothing you do will every burden me, I swear. I owe you my life for how you've helped me. Please, it will help us both if you just tell me."

I was crying again, uncontrollably. He rubbed circles on my back and just kept saying "Mark, I'm here for you."

"Rog…can you just hold me? Please?" I didn't see an ounce of hesitation in Roger's eyes when he picked me up and held me in his lap. I curled up and cried into his chest. He still kept rubbing my back soothingly. I felt safe again in his arms.

"It was ten years ago today, when it all started. I think that's why all the nightmares keep getting worse, today is when it all started…"

I cried, sobbed and shook in Roger's arms, and I told him everything. I told him about the beatings I would get 3 or 4 times a week, without doing anything wrong. I told him how I had told my mom everything and she called me a liar, and told my father. He beat me even more after that, and with much more hate. When I told Roger about the time he pushed me down the stairs when I tried to fight back I could feel Roger start to shake. I looked into his eyes and I saw the tears he refused to shed because he was trying to be strong, but most of all, I saw love. Love like I had never seen before, that most children saw every day because they had loving parents, but not me. I could feel his love surrounding me, comforting me, drying my tears. All the horrible memories that had been brought forward this day were pushed back momentarily as we looked at each other.

Something inside his eyes inspired me, and gave me the courage to lean up and kiss his lips. It was a quick, but meaningful kiss. For a fleeting moment I was scared of his reaction, but it was soon quieted when he murmured, "I love you Mark."

"I love you too Roger" I replied and he held me tighter. This love was different than the love we expressed in the past; this was absolute, unconditional **Love**.

I leaned into his chest again and he kissed my head. "Promise me Rog, you'll never leave, that you'll always hold me like this?" I asked.

"I swear to you Mark. I'll always be here to protect you. Just promise me you'll never hide things from me again."

"I promise."

We kissed again, this time with more passion, passion that we never knew we had for each other.

From that day forward Roger and I shared everything with each other. It was still painful to talk about my father, but Roger was always there holding me, making me feel safe. I could still make my emotions be a blur to everyone, but Roger could stare straight into my soul.

A/N: Okay, how bad was it? Be honest please?


End file.
